


Pockets

by LoveChilde



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Community: purimgifts, Gen, Historical Dress, Historical References, Monsters caused history, Pockets, Tudor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-22 05:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/pseuds/LoveChilde
Summary: A short discussion on the merits and flaws of historical dress, brought about by Tudor-era heroics.





	Pockets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mihrsuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihrsuri/gifts).



> Happy Purim and joyous first day! Inspired by Wikipedia and years of historical reenactments. Can be seens as a Tudors crossover if you squint.
> 
> Painting is King Henry VIII, his queen Jane Seymour and young Prince Edward, by an unnown artist.

It was all over but the mad dash back to the TARDIS, which was in full swing.

“Hurry, hurry, they can’t catch us, there will be another Incident.” The Doctor sounded unusually frazzled, but then, they had just saved the future King Edward VI, still a small child, from an alien being that the Doctor said had been responsible for some many of the royal babies dying young, or being stillborn. Yaz felt awful that they couldn’t have been earlier, maybe, to save more babies - but clearly, the timeline had to be maintained. History would remember it as a dangerous bout of fever for the four year old prince, but the Doctor and her Companions would know better. 

“What incident, then?” Graham gasped, jogging along as they dodged carts and people (and dogs, horses, mules, crates and bags and puddles of mud and worse) on the crowded streets of Tudor London.

“Never you mind.” The Doctor turned her head just enough to wink, and gracefully managed to jump over a dog rather than trip on it. “Let’s just say that I have a history - or a future - with Queen Liz..”

Of course she had. The Doctor seemed to know everybody, or at least, everybody had at least heard of her. But it did make for interesting times. King Henry’s court had been all Yaz had expected and more: opulent, gorgeous, smelly - surprisingly smelly, actually - but interesting, so very interesting.

Looking down at her running legs gave her pause. Back behind them was Tudor London, where _nobody_ wore trousers, certainly not women. Big bell-shaped skirts, furs and cloaks and funny hats were the order of the day, and yet they were all still in 21st century clothing with not an eyelash batted in their direction.

Later, on the TARDIS, she asked, “Doctor, why don’t we ever dress up appropriately for where we’re going?” The Doctor glanced up, looking vague and distracted. Familiarity made Yaz suspect she was neither.

“What’s wrong with what we’re wearing? Practical, durable, has pockets! Can you imagine, the things I might forget or misplace if I didn’t have pockets?”

“But why don’t people mind us looking a bit off? I mean, they notice us, what we look like-” Again, Ryan had gotten comments on his dark skin, and her own ‘exotic’ coloring had drawn more than one look - “but never what we’re wearing. Why?”

“People see what they’re comfortable seeing, Yaz.” Now the Doctor was clear eyed and focused, serious and in ‘explainy-mode’. “In our case, they expect people to be dressed a certain way, and speak a certain way. The TARDIS helps us keep up appearances, in a way. It alters people’s perceptions to help us fit in better, until not fitting in is more useful. Like what we were fighting, earlier, they could see us as we were. However, the energy sucking, gunk spitting monster drew more of their attention. Keeps us and then safe and comfy.”

“The TARDIS makes us look different?” That had never occurred to Yaz. 

“Only your clothes. And sometimes your language. Apparently, Latin can be translated as Welsh!” The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Wanna see what you look like?”

“Do I ever!”

“Old girl, can we have a mirror please?” 

One of the walls shimmered and flowed, turning into a full-length mirror. In it, Yaz could see herself, the Doctor, Ryan and Graham - and then they, too, seemed to shimmer, and there was suddenly a _lot_ more fabric in the mirror image.

“Blimey.” Graham ran his hand down his thigh - feeling durable jeans while his hand in the mirror seemed to smooth down a long, dark grey robe of something heavy, maybe velvet. 

“No, really?” Yaz felt the air around her waist, where, in the mirror, a bell-shaped hooped skirt swung, burnt orange in color, and sweeping sleeves in the same shade brushed the floor. She glanced sideways and giggled, seeing Ryan’s expression - and his knee breeches and stockings. “Nice legs.”

He blushed.

“See, the TARDIS shows what we need to blend in, if we need to.” The Doctor herself was in shades of blue, a design slightly different from Yaz’s, with an odd sort of hat thing dotted with what was probably pearls, “and spares us having to actually wear it.” 

“Yeah, but - could we?”

“What, wear it? You want to wear this?” The Doctor grinned. “I’ve worn stranger and heavier gear but I’ll warn you, these outfits were not designed for 21st century comfort. Did you know they hadn’t invented left and right shoes yet?”

“Be less confusion getting them on, then.” Ryan suggested. He’d needed stickers with letters inside his shoes until he was 14, to get the feet right. “Not that I want to dress up.” 

He rather wanted to dress up. 

“Also stays - meaning a corset, no knickers for anybody, no zips, buttons just coming in - and those things on our heads are the outer layer, there is at least one more piece of headgear underneath. And two petticoats under your hoops, Yaz.”

Yaz was shaking her head. “Sounds like a lot of trouble for dressing up...” 

“Also, no pockets!” That seemed to cinch it for the Doctor. 

“No pockets.” Yaz shrugged and slid a hand into the ones on her jeans. “Never mind then.”

After a moment of hesitation, a look away, and an encouraging glance from the Doctor, Ryan volunteered “I might like to try…”

“Of course you would.” Graham’s tone was warm, almost playful, “You got both trousers and pockets! That’s cheating.”

Ryan shrugged. “Still, would be nice.”

“Come along then.” The Doctor snapped her fingers and the wall shimmered back to normal. “I’m sure I’ve a wardrobe somewhere that can help. Pockets for everyone!” 

[](https://s1245.photobucket.com/user/Gills8/media/fic1.jpg.html)


End file.
